


Imperfections

by armaggedidnt (dragonLeighs)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, How Do I Tag, No beta we fall like Crowley, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 04:23:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19899775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonLeighs/pseuds/armaggedidnt
Summary: Aziraphale always kept his distance, physically speaking. Crowley wondered if it was because they were "hereditary enemies". He dismisses it until he notices a human acting the same way. Maybe something else was going on.OrThe reason why Aziraphale wears reading glasses even though he's an angel.





	Imperfections

Crowley had noticed pretty early on that Aziraphale always stood or sat away from him. It wasn’t a big distance but it was noticeable, beyond what would simply be called “personal space”. He thought that perhaps it was to do with them being so-called enemies, despite the fact that they both knew they were, at the very least, friends. Or maybe it was the ever-present demonic energy he gave off that troubled him. Perhaps he was afraid that Heaven or Hell would be watching and he didn’t want to be seen fraternising with the enemy. 

No matter the reason, it hurt. Whenever Crowley would appear at his angel’s side, Aziraphale would take a step back. Crowley tried to hide the hurt he felt, and Aziraphale never seemed to pick up on it. Their conversations were always pleasant and sometimes they would even share a meal or some particularly good wine. Overall, Crowley considered them to be pretty good friends. 

It wasn’t until humans were more widespread and they started seeing each other more often that Crowley noticed a pattern. No matter who he was speaking with, Aziraphale always seemed to maintain a certain distance away from people. The only thought that crossed his mind was that it obviously wasn’t personal. As he watched his angel more throughout the centuries, he began to ask a new question. Why? 

It wasn’t as if the angel though that he was too... angelic to be near other beings, unlike Gabriel, that stuck up prick. He had no problem with touching humans, healing and performing miracles, or even just a simple hug to bring comfort to a grieving parent or lost child. He would even touch Crowley sometimes. Usually nothing more than a brush of hands as a glass of wine was passed between them or when they accidentally bump into each other, but Aziraphale never shied away from his touch or showed any outward signs of disgust. 

Crowley didn’t want to ask the angel about the strange habit, afraid he might upset him in som way. Over time he simply accepted it as one of his many quirks and forgot about the whole thing. Aziraphale obviously had his reasons, no matter how strange they may be. 

Sometime during the 15th century that he spotted someone else doing the same thing. The tailor he had gone to see about a new outfit was working away, taking various measurements. Nothing seemed unusual at first, he’d been to many tailors in his long life time. What he found rather peculiar however was that Crowley noticed that he seemed to be leaning away from Crowley whenever he was taking measurements and when writing them down, he wrote at arm's length. When he straightened to talk to him, he took a step back, not unlike Aziraphale. 

Not wanting to say anything in case of causing offence (sure he was a demon but that didn’t mean he was _rude_ ), he payed him and said he’d be back to pick up his new clothes in two weeks. Of course he could just miracle himself some new clothes but he liked the feeling of the material, all of the little details hand stitched and slightly imperfect. 

He returned a week later and collected his clothes. The tailor no longer stood an uncomfortable distance away. The only difference he could see was a pair of glasses sitting on the bridge of the man’s nose. Unlike Crowley’s own sunglasses, these were clear and, if he looked closely, seemed to create a warped image of their surroundings around the edges of the glass. 

He wondered if whatever was wrong with this man was also what was afflicting Aziraphale and if his angel would benefit from a pair of these clear glasses. He decided to seek out Aziraphale. He wanted to test his theory before doing anything, wanted to see if he acted the same way as the tailor. It wasn’t too difficult locating Aziraphale in the bustling city. He sought out the energy which was distinctly Aziraphale's and found the angel in a small market not too far away.

“Aziraphale!” he called as he approached. 

The angel turned, a smile growing on his face as he saw the demon. “Crowley! What are you doing here? I thought Hell sent you away to do some tempting in Gwynedd.” 

“They did. I only got back a few days ago and thought I’d pop by.” As the demon came nearer, he stepped slightly too close to Aziraphale on purpose, picking up an apple from a stall. On reflex, the angel took a step away. 

“Oh, well seeing as you’re here I don’t suppose you’d want to get a spot of lunch?” 

After a moment of pretending to think about it, Crowley said “Sure, why not?” He gave a smile to the angel and set the apple back down.

“Splendid. I know a lovely little place not too far from here. The food is wonderful although the ale leaves a lot to be desired.” 

They talked as they made their way to the place Aziraphale had in mind. Crowley wasn’t put off by the statement of bad alcohol, after all, he could just miracle it into wine. And if Hell ever asked, he could always claim he was trying to encourage drunkenness and chaos. 

As they entered the establishment, Crowley quickly scanned the crowded room. There didn’t seem to be any tables free until two men sat at a small table in the corner suddenly remembered the very important business they had across town. “Over there angel,” he said, pointing to the space the men had just vacated. 

“Right, I’ll be with you in a minute.” The angel made his way to the bar to place their order while the demon sat in one of the empty chairs. He was soon rejoined by the angel who tried rather unsuccessfully to shuffle his chair to the opposite side of the table to maintain the usual distance between them. Crowley raised an eyebrow but neither said anything. 

It wasn’t long before the food arrived along with the ale. Crowley took one sip and grimaced, turning it to wine with a flick of his wrist, doing the same to Aziraphale’s mug. As they ate (or rather, Aziraphale ate, Crowley just sipped his wine), they caught each other up on the events of the past few years. As they talked, Crowley couldn’t help but notice the way the angel would lean slightly too far back in his chair every now and then, as if he were drunk. 

“Are you alright?” Crowley asked eventually. 

“Why ever wouldn’t I be my dear?” 

“Well, it’s just you’re doing a lot of...” instead of finishing his sentence, Crowley leant back in his chair, much the same way Aziraphale had been doing. 

“Ah, yes that. Well you see, um. Well it’s sort of become a bad habit I suppose.” Aziraphale looked down at his lap, clearly embarrassed that he’d been called out. Crowley waited, knowing that if he said anything now, the angel would refuse to say anything else on the matter. 

After a moment of patient waiting, Aziraphale spoke again. “I don’t tend to get close to things, or people, because I...” he took a deep breath, “I can’t see things if they’re too close.” 

Crowley, half expected this to be the case after seeing the tailor but the revelation still struck him. All these centuries and the reason Aziraphale was never sat near to him was simply because he wanted to see him better. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

Aziraphale looked up. “It’s not like anything could’ve been done about it. And it’s not like it’s something I want to go around telling everyone. “Hello, I’m Aziraphale, angel of Heaven and I can’t see.”” 

Understanding dawned in Crowley’s mind. “You didn’t say because you think you’re it would make you imperfect.” 

Aziraphale only nodded, looking back at his lap. “Heaven already thinks I’m a bad angel, I didn’t want to give them another reason to look down on me.” 

“What? Just because the Almighty gave you slightly shitty eyes? She made you exactly as you were meant to be, bad eyesight and all. Who cares what those what those pricks in Heaven think. It doesn’t mean you have to suffer for it. Why don’t you just miracle it better anyway?” 

“There’s no need to swear Crowley,” the angel tutted, although he seemed less upset after Crowley’s slightly questionable pep talk. “I can’t miracle it better because it’s not an issue of my corporation. It’s my true form. It simply carries over to any body I happen to be using. Otherwise discorporation would have fixed it by now.” 

That made sense. They had both been discorporated at one point or another. Heaven and Hell were fond of sending them to influence human wars which often resulted in them fighting and “dying”.

"So _all_ of your eyes are imperfect?" Crowley asked, referring to the hundreds of eyes of Aziraphale's true form.

Aziraphale nodded. "I'd rather not talk about this any more if that's alright."

Crowley let out a sigh but dropped the subject, trying to pick up the convertion where they left it. They continued to talk and eventually the whole incident was largely forgotten except Aziraphale had stopped leaning and was instead squinting, now overly aware that the leaning was hardly subtle. They ended up staying for dinner and probably would have stayed all night if the owner hadn’t insisted they leave. They parted ways with the promise of lunch another day. 

Crowley sought out Aziraphale a few days later, this time with a small wooden box in hand. He tracked his energy to a small inn near the centre of London, presumably where the angel was staying while he was in the city. He found the right door and knocked. 

“Crowley, I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon. Do come in,” the angel said, opening the door for the demon to come inside. "Please, take a seat." He gestured to a short stool that looked about ready to collapse next to a rickety table. Despite this, the demon still sat, using a minor miracle to ensure he didn't end up on the floor.

“May I ask why you’re here? Is it the Arrangement?” 

“Oh no, I just wanted to see you. Here, I brought you something.” He placed the small wooden box on the table and slid it across to the angel. He picked it up and released the small brass catch on the front. 

“Oh Crowley,” he said with such gratitude, Crowley though his heart might stop. Inside the box sat a brand new pair of glasses. Lifting them out of the box, Aziraphale carefully unfolded them to inspect them. The lenses were small and perfectly round, surrounded by thin metal rims. 

“Why don’t you try them on?” the demon suggested. Aziraphale did so. The glasses fit perfectly and the small lenses meant that he could still see Crowley across from him while also being able to see closer things if he looked down. He studied the table, tracing the grain of the wood with his eyes. He'd never been able to truely enjoy small details like this before. It almost felt like he was back in Eden, marvelling at all of God's creations for the first time.

“They’re mostly supposed to be for reading but they should help a bit.” 

“They’re perfect Crowley. Thank you.” 

“Right, well. Lunch?” Crowley asked, needing an excuse to break the silence before Aziraphale went on a soppy tirade of thanks. His poor demonic soul wouldn’t be able to cope and he’d probably end up being a puddle of feelings he didn’t particularly want to face today. 

“Yeas, I think that sounds like an excellent idea.” The two beings left the room and went in search of a place that actually served half decent alcohol.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a tumblr post I saw a while ago. This is my first finished fanfic so please let me know in the comments what you thought or anything you think needs improving :)


End file.
